


the stars are looking straight down on us

by ceylontea



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Airship, Bath Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Noble Scholar Percy, Oral Sex, Ship Captain Vex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceylontea/pseuds/ceylontea
Summary: vex is the confident captain of an airship. percy is a noble scholar seeking passage on board to conduct his research. they... connect.a story of paths crossing, found family, and storms in the sky.
Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia
Comments: 26
Kudos: 146





	the stars are looking straight down on us

**Author's Note:**

> here's a little au exploration of vex and percy that was entirely inspired by her commanding competence as a leader and his horniness for airships. hope you enjoy!

A sharp rap of knuckles echoed against Vex’s cabin door. She knew the sound immediately. Her brother had a distinctive knock. With a sigh, she called for him to enter, and set aside the paper in her hands—thick parchment, expensive, marked by Allura Vysoren’s weighty wax seal, now broken.

“Reading the letter again?” Vax asked, raising a brow, though he’d never quite mastered the art of scorn the way she had. “Or looking at the sketch?”

“Can’t risk picking up the wrong person,” she said.

Her tone was a little defensive, because honestly, she _had_ been checking the identifying details of their future passenger. She’d reread the basic description in the letter: Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, twenty-four years old, a recent graduate of engineering and mechanics from the only non-arcane university in Emon’s erudite quarter, and member of distant nobility. Simple enough to remember.

But after that, she’d indulged. She’d stared at the sketch that came in the envelope, provided to better identify him.

He was tall, she thought, though the portrait only showed him in bust. His hair was tousled and shockingly pale. Whether blond or white, she couldn’t tell in pencil rendering. He had a handsome jaw, a pensive expression, and a startling intelligence in his gaze. His strong nose and dark under-eyes only added to his distinctive beauty.

But, of course, she only perused the image in casual interest. It was the manner of a person that defined their true attractiveness. And Vex had not met Percival yet.

Ignoring her brother’s knowing look, she stood up and donned her captain’s hat. She always aimed to look perfectly poised on deck. Her outfits skirted the edge between practical and sultry in elegant calculation.

“Still questioning your own decision?” Vax asked, as they began to head up.

“Still wondering why he wants to join us for a cross-continental journey,” Vex said. “Aboard a ship like _this,_ of all things!”

She spread her arms wide, indicting the vessel they stood within. The _Cirrus Ursa_ was her pride and joy—an immense airship with winged arches at her stern and sails that spread like the dark remiges of a raven overhead. She could navigate the skies with incredible grace and was known to buck off enemies far larger and stronger. The intricate engine in her belly was a masterful feat of engineering. She was unmatched.

Yet the ship was often in danger. Her missions were complicated. Her scrapes with death were as frequent as they were thrilling. And the rewards had always proved a poor compensation for the risks to anyone other than the members of her crew. No lasting riches. No enactable power. Only a little fame, and a lot of freedom, and the close comradery of a family found and forged beneath the endless sky.

“You think Percival can’t cope?” Vax asked.

“Few can.”

“He just wants to study the engine.”

“Well, yes, but he could have done so on a shorter journey. Or on a ship less rife with peril, that doesn’t have a ton of enemies who could descend on us at any time.”

Vex tapped a harsh burn scar that licked its way from the _Cirrus Ursa’s_ belly to this very wall, one level belowdecks. Vax laughed.

“He likely wants a little adventure. Besides, it’s not like he matches our usual idea of a snotty little noble. He comes at Allura’s recommendation. And you heard about his… background.”

“Yes,” Vex agreed. “I’m certain he holds surprises.”

She was silent for a moment, ruminating on the letter again. Apparently, Percival had asked that Allura be completely open when writing it. He wanted transparency. And, being an old and trusted friend to Vex, she had been relieved to omit nothing.

She’d given a concise explanation of Percival’s past. He had been born into a noble family in the northern town of Whitestone. But, while he was still a teenager, they were attacked by their own guests, the Briarwoods, who had destroyed the Lord and Lady and most of the children in a bid for power.

Yet they failed to prevent Percival’s escape, aided by his surviving sister. And they failed to account for the family’s allies, who lived nearby on the estate of Vord. Percival made for their home as soon as he was free. Over the following year, they housed him and helped him to seek recompense. First, they liberated his sister, Cassandra. Then their halfling ward, Kima, led a team of adventurers to take back Whitestone. Allura had been among them.

The Briarwood’s didn’t go easily. They tore half of the city to the ground trying to escape justice.

Percival and his sister had been spared the sight, but they held deep trauma all the same. They felt unequipped to cope with their duty and their grief, so they asked the house of Vord to stand in as titled guardians of Whitestone. Percival pursued his interests in science and engineering instead. He attended university.

There, he discovered one loose string had come from the Briarwood attacks. Her name was Anna Ripley. And she was stalking him.

He knew exactly who she was. She had been a traitor in the coup of Whitestone, and after rifling through Percival’s belongings, had become obsessed with his ideas for the development of unique weaponry. When she escaped the reckoning brought upon her allies, she sought him out, desperate to steal more of his innovation, increasingly frustrated when he failed to revisit his old concepts in his studies.

With Ripley’s shadow looming, Percival had wanted Vex thoroughly informed. He wouldn’t have come aboard the ship without warning her. But the story hadn’t put Vex off at all. It had plucked at her heart-strings. Without fully understanding the extent of her empathy, she had agreed to Allura’s strange request, and accepted Percival as a researching passenger.

“He’ll fit in fine with all us assholes,” Vax said, breaking her from her thoughts.

“I suppose you’re right.” She smiled at him. “Now, hurry up. Let’s go make port and bring the boy aboard.”

…

Percy was, by nature, a fidgety person. It had often brought him strife, among noble circles, when stricter members of the older generation took his moving hands as a sign of disinterest or disrespect. In reality, the unsettled mannerisms were more a sign of nervousness than anything.

Right now, he couldn’t stop playing with the handle of his travelling case. He flicked open one of the locks. Flicked it closed.

He had been obsessed with airships since he first saw a picture of one, on the pages of a book, so intriguing he’d wondered if such an invention might be fictional. But when he’d read further, he’d discovered the strange sky vessels were real. And he’d dreamt of them ever since.

He’d also dreamt, quite specifically, of the _Cirrus Ursa._

The ship was legendary. Run by the eccentric Captain Vex’ahlia, upkept by a small crew of experts, and home to a famous flying bear. You see, it wasn’t really a merchant vessel. Nor a pirate ship. Nor a carrier for passengers. Instead, the _Cirrus Ursa_ skirted great distances and descended from the sky in the name of justice. She recused villages isolated by natural disaster, defeated smuggler rings that took advantage of vulnerable communities, and transported specialist, dangerous cargo that no one else was willing to carry.

Percy had hungrily consumed every story ever printed about the ship.

And, now, he was actually standing in front of it.

The craft was as stunning in person as it had been on a page, with such clever design, poise, and _character,_ it felt like a living creature. It was the kind of masterpiece that turned all of Percy’s thoughts embarrassingly poetic, and his palms embarrassingly sweaty.

He couldn’t believe it was real.

“Lord Percival?” someone called. “You are Lord Percival, correct?”

He tore his eyes from the ship and felt his mind wiped blank by the sight that awaited him.

Completely blank.

There was a novel he read once, long ago—an unrefined, tawdry indulgence of romantic fiction. It had been about a pirate captain, whose daring deeds were known all down the coast, and whose insatiable flirting was famous even beyond that. She was a charming, beautiful, self-assured leader. An idealised caricature. But something had bothered Percival beyond the inelegant writing. He’d never really been able to picture her face. He’d never been able to construct such over-the-top beauty in his imagination.

Until now.

Because, if he were to read that book again, he knew this woman would be imprinted irreversibly into his mind.

She wore tall, black boots over dark pants that clung to her curves, with a billowing white shirt tucked into the waist. Her thick belt was joined at the middle by the image of a crescent moon curling around a baleful, humanised sun. Her skin glowed golden brown against her bright smile, her dark eyes fixed on him. And atop her pointed ears, she wore a broad captain’s hat, marked by a curling blue feather.

 _Oh shit,_ he thought, _is that her? Is that Captain Vex’ahlia? Allura didn’t warn me she would be so…_

“Uh, yes,” he managed to stammer. “I am. Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the third.”

She smiled. It was almost a smirk, but her gaze was too gentle. It let him in on the joke.

“But, uh, you can call me… Percy.”

“Percy,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m afraid you’ll have to call me Captain Vex’ahlia.”

And she actually winked.

Acting on some vestige of instinct, he clasped hands with her, and then held down a flustered curse, wondering if she noticed how sweaty his palms were. Wondering if she thought it was unseemly.

“I have the payment for my time aboard,” Percy said quickly. He tugged the bag of coin loose from his belt. “For lodging and food and all.”

“Oh, you can wait until the end—”

“I’d rather give it to you now. Really.”

He passed it over. Vex’ahlia didn’t look inside, but she weighed it in her hand and raised a perfect eyebrow.

“This is more than I requested. Much more.”

“Ah,” he felt himself flush. “Well, it’s what the trip is worth to me.”

The trip would have been worth all his savings, in fact, but he figured that was a strange thing to say.

“You don’t owe—”

“Please,” Percy said. “Keep it.”

Vex hesitated, but she looked quite charmed. She tucked the purse into her belt.

“Follow me then, darling. You’ve got a whole lot of ship to get acquainted with before we take off. If you lose your nerve, I’d rather you do so right away.”

“I will not be turning back,” he promised.

She eyed him more intently than before.

“I hope not.”

And he followed her onto the airship.

The crew were mostly milling about on deck. He found he could identify each member right away, based on the stories he had heard, but Vex’ahlia lead him around, introducing him.

“Our benefactor, creator, and sometimes-shipmate is absent right now, I’m afraid. Tary has a lot to do on land. So, come, we’ll start with my brother…”

Her twin brother was also her first mate. He was checking over some maps for the next leg of the journey. On the surface, he looked exactly like her, though a little more modestly dressed, and a little more tightly gathered in the way he stood, like a wound spring that might leap into the rigging at any moment. He spared Percy a friendly greeting.

Next up was Keyleth of the Air Ashari. A gifted druid in charge of navigation. Due to her mother’s position as leader of her people, and her own competence in the skies, she had earned the nickname “Daughter of the Tempest.” Knowing all he did about her power, Percy was quite taken-aback by her awkward, excited welcome. But he knew better than to underestimate her. He met her warmth with awed respect.

Next up, the famous Scanlan Shorthalt was plucking the strings of a lyre right at the bow of the ship. At the sight of them approaching, he leapt to his feet, guilty look on his face, and picked up a broom instead.

“Hey Captain!” he said. “I was just sweeping! Is this the fresh meat?”

“Don’t scare him off,” Vex’ahlia scolded. “This is Percy.”

“Welcome aboard, handsome,” Scanlan acquiesced. “If you get bored of studying, feel free to aid me with the cooking and cleaning and—”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Percy said.

Though Scanlan was most famous for his many sexual entanglements, he was also a kind of jack-of-all-trades on the ship. Among such a small crew, he pitched in for many duties, several of them menial. But his actual expertise was in arcana. He would be absolutely irreplaceable if crisis came.

As Vex and Percy moved on, they easily spotted the hulking form of the one and only deckhand. Grog Strongjaw was waiting by the stern for the call to hoist anchor, staring absently over the city. He was amiable in his introduction, almost counteracting the effects of his intimidating appearance, but Percy suspected he would still take some getting used to. Especially with legends ringing in his head; Grog tearing apart the grappling hooks of boarding pirates with his bare hands; Grog tearing apart limbs in similar fashion.

Last of all, they found Pike Trickfoot below-deck, where she was checking up on the engine. The second gnome of the crew was an experienced cleric and had been an expert at sea even before she switched to airships. She had a practised finger on the pulse of the _Cirrus Ursa_. She welcomed Percy with utmost kindness.

“And now, you could meet the most important member of the crew,” said Vex’ahlia, her eyes shining. “My long-time shadow and dearest companion. If you’re not afraid…”

“To meet Trinket?” Percy asked, feeling, somehow, that this was a test. “Not at all.”

So she swung open the door marked _Captain’s Quarters._

Percy followed her inside. His footsteps almost faltered. Trinket was bigger than he expected—a hulking brown ball of fur with vicious black claws, curled in the corner, snoozing. When they entered, he lifted his immense head to sniff the air. Vex’ahlia bent to scratch his chin, cooing in a buttery-smooth voice that made even Percy feel like he was melting. And the bear’s blackberry eyes fixed directly on him.

It was intimidating. But Percy wasn’t about to let that show.

“Good afternoon, Trinket,” he said. “My, you’re a handsome fellow.”

Trinket let out a loud sniff, took a step toward him, and ran his nose along the toe of Percy’s boots. Percy didn’t flinch. Didn’t touch him either. Gave him space.

“Yes, those are quite fine leather,” he said, hoping desperately that Vex’ahlia wasn’t judging him. “Waterproof, if you’ll believe it.”

Trinket let out a little huff again, snuffled his large, damp nose to the sweaty palm of Percy’s hand, and returned to his corner. He settled onto what was now visible as a hand-stitched quilt. Like someone might gift to a new-born baby.

“Well, there you go.” Vex’ahlia was beaming. The kind of smile that could stop a heart. “He likes you.”

“He does?”

“He didn’t eat you, did he?”

Percy hadn’t heard about Trinket eating people in the stories, and he wondered if that part was a joke, but he decided not to question it.

Instead, he followed the enigmatic, mystifying captain of the _Cirrus Ursa_ all the way to the chamber set aside for his stay. When she closed the door behind him, telling him to get settled, he plunked his travelling case to the floor, and tried desperately to ignore the rising thoughts in the back of his mind. Thoughts that told him he might actually follow her anywhere.

…

Vex liked their strange, academic passenger more than she wanted to admit.

Percy joined them on deck the moment the whistle blew and they prepared for take-off, with a pretty leather-bound notebook in one hand, a pencil in the other, and a second behind his ear. He took notes while they rose into the sky. He peered over the railing with no fear.

She crossed her arms and watched him. She glared at Vax when he breezed past and whispered; “he’s cute in person too.”

Then she returned to her work. She had so much to do during launch: keeping track of reports on air pressure, and the arcane core in the ship’s belly, and the werkings of all the clever mechanisms that lifted them beyond the lower layers of cloud. She kept her stare on the sails, called a few orders, and spun the helm’s wheel.

And before long, they were away, heading west across the Ozmit sea.

She gave the call that they’d achieved the proper height, and at last, everyone was able to relax a little. Vax took the helm. Vex joined Percy at the railing. Spread beneath them, they could see glistening sapphire water, dotted with little ships of maritime persuasion.

“What do you think?” she asked.

He jumped, like he hadn’t noticed her approach. When he turned, his eyes were shining with actual tears, a sort of giddy elation clutching him. His cheeks where pink, a little chaffed by the wind, a little coloured by excitement. His pen had frozen on a page already covered with his thoughts.

“This is perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

And his tone was so sincere she wasn’t sure what to say. No one had rendered her speechless for years. She nodded acknowledgement and left before her own blush rose to a point where anyone might notice.

After that, things were smooth. Percy settled in very well with the crew. During their first evening meal, they were entirely on their worst behaviour, trying to get a rise out of him. But he responded to each ribbing with wit and grace, accepting teasing, and returning with a brilliant brand of sarcasm that was entirely his own. Vex couldn’t have been more impressed.

Over the next week, she watched him find his feet with the finesse of a natural survivor. He got past a few initial bouts of sky-sickness faster than most blue-blooded aristocrats. He fit into a niche in the routine of the ship. He even helped Scanlan prepare dinner, though the gnome quickly relegated him to dishes upon discovering his abysmal cooking skills.

And around the ship, Vex kept finding moments for private conversation with Percy.

The words they exchanged were simple, light, and friendly, but they flowed with such ease it was almost intoxicating. Percy seemed to really understand her. And he understood airships too. My _goodness,_ he understood airships.

He spoke of the _Cirrus Ursa_ with an affection level to her own crew. He already knew what made the vessel work in theory. He could have pulled apart her pieces and put them back together. But his love deepened every day, now that he got to _experience_ her majesty first-hand, his brilliant mind slowly unfolding the mystery of her every-day existence.

To a captain who viewed her ship like an extension of herself, such blatant admiration was very flattering. Vex could have spent hours bathed in Percy’s words. She could have drowned in feeling of seeing herself and her livelihood through his eyes.

Once, when the ship was resting over a small island bay, to allow everyone a full night’s sleep, Vex woke early. The air was quiet and undisturbed, broken only by passing seabirds. At first, she thought herself alone. But she found Percy on deck. She joined him by the railing. The sky was blanketed with clouds and touched with pale peach and the burnt orange of a rising sun. Their voices were exchanged in low tones, swirling in the misty air.

“It’s celestial, isn’t it?” Percy asked.

She took a moment to catch his meaning.

“The name of the ship?” she said.

“Yes. _Cirrus._ The word used to describe those clouds,” he pointed overhead, higher than they were hovering, where the wind had blown wisps of white across the heavens. Then he looked her in the eye. “And _Ursa._ The word for bear.”

“Correct.” She smiled. “You speak celestial?”

“An interest of mine.” He hesitated. “But _ursa_ means she-bear. Trinket is male?”

Some people might have been worried to point out such a thing, in case she’d made a mistake, and would be offended. But Percy thought more highly of her. He was waiting for an explanation.

“Darling, the reference to a she-bear is a reference to the ship.”

Percy looked at her. Some thought was spinning behind those clever, pale eyes—the same colour reflected at the edges of the sunrise.

“And a reference to you?” he asked.

She couldn’t help leaning a little closer.

“Astute. You have some fascinating layers, Percy de Rolo. How I’d love to explore them all…”

And his face turned red.

But nothing ever came of those moments. They were always interrupted. Scanlan clattering on deck to ask if he could use up the salted cod for breakfast. Or, at other times, her brother appearing, with a faint scowl that grew increasingly deep. Or by Percy himself, seeming to not believe her words might be intentional, changing the topic.

But she was flirting with him on purpose.

It hadn’t started out that way. She figured, at the beginning, that she was just that kind of person. She always exchanged teasing comments with the people around her. She might swoon over Pike’s strong arms. She might bait Scanlan for the fun of their banter. She might remind Grog how deliciously well-built he was. It was her small way of showing her family how much she appreciated them. It was warm and comfortable in the very fact that it meant nothing serious.

With Percy, however, things were different. She could deny that no longer.

Her tone was charged. Her words were growing more weighted as the days went by. She was developing a gut-deep sense of something close to _longing._

Vex dreamed, one night, of simply kissing Percy up against the railing of the ship, sky spread endlessly on her every side, her hands the only things binding him to reality, until he gasped her name. But when she woke, she knew she wouldn’t do it. Not unless she was sure her feelings were reciprocated. And not until they were close to land. Nothing worse than being stuck on a tiny ship with someone who doesn’t like you back. Nothing worse than the possibility of him feeling obligated with no escape.

Anyway, her growing feelings weren’t the only complicated thing brought on by Percy’s presence. There had been a few strange moments with him too. You see, he kept a little pocket at his waist, at all times. Leather, and closed overtop with a flap well buttoned-down. When Keyleth asked about it, his mouth drew thin, and he simply stated that it was a personal weapon—a thing of his own design.

Most of the crew didn’t press further. But Vax, who was always slipping in and out of shadows, as hungry for secrets as his sister, was bothered.

“I can’t believe you aren’t curious,” he said, one evening, when they were alone in the captain’s cabin.

Vex sighed, crossing her ankles, boots resting atop her desk.

“It’s not about my curiosity,” she said. “It’s about respecting boundaries. We knew he explored strange, revolutionary weapons. That’s _why_ Anna Ripley is chasing him. We invited him anyway.”

“But I thought he refused to study the weapons any further.”

“Perhaps it’s an old model.”

“Why does he carry it?”

“Honestly, Vax, I don’t fucking care. That’s his business. We warned him this journey was dangerous, so he came prepared. I’m not asking him to give up his only protection.”

Vax looked angry.

He had always considered himself his sister’s keeper. Though his official title was _first mate,_ she knew he also saw himself as a bodyguard. And she knew where it came from.

When they were children—when they found their mother’s town in ash—they had been thrust into the big wide world all by themselves _._ But Vax was several minutes older. He took his responsibly very seriously. He had two knives and a lot of courage. He had quick feet and an instinct for trouble. He stole food and clothes when necessary. He stuck close by his sister’s side as they snuck along the docks and found themselves work on board ships.

But the thing is, Vex had also guarded _him_ , in ways he never knew. When storms raged out at sea, and they were stuck in one hammock, sharing with a bear cub, she never told him she was scared. She looked after all their money, and pretended it was fine, even when they were reduced to coppers rolling in the bottom of a gaping, empty purse. She acted like cruel comments from other people rolled right off her back.

Protecting _each other_. That was what they really did.

But now Vax was worried that Percy posed some danger to his sister. He was worried he had failed at his role to keep her safe. So, decision weighty behind his eyes, frustration growing, he decided to push some buttons.

“You really won’t send him away?”

“Fuck, Vax, of course not.”

“Not even if he’s dangerous?”

“We have no proof of that.”

“Or you’re blinded to it.”

“Why would I be?”

“Because you have a crush on him!”

The air in the cabin stilled.

Vex stood up. Gritted her teeth together.

“Get out.”

“Vex—”

“We may be twins, but I am also your _captain_. We are discussing a matter relating to the management of the _ship_. It’s unfair for you to bring personal feelings into the mix.”

“But—”

“To whom on this ship do I not offer privacy?” she demanded. “You’re thinking this way, full of so much suspicion, because you know every other member of the crew intimately. Like family _._ But it took more than Percy’s five days for us to reach that point with them. If he wants to speak, he will. In time. For now, leave him alone.”

Vax paused.

“I might ask him.”

Vex sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Then ask him,” she sighed. “But know he’s well within his rights to deny you an answer.”

So her brother swept out of the room.

Unsurprisingly, he decided to jump head-long into the conflict. He questioned Percy right after dinner, when the ship was resting again, and they were all gathered in one place. Scanlan and Grog were washing dishes at the back of the kitchen, and Pike was filling mugs of ale. The temperature seemed to cool dramatically as Vax tore into the topic, laying all his suspicions on the table.

Percy, for his part, looked mildly surprised.

“I guess it seems strange,” he admitted. His hand drifted to his waist. To the weapon. “This _was_ an old design, but truthfully, I didn’t build it until recently. I- I did it in my spare time. Never involved it in my actual studies. Because I _don’t_ want it to become public knowledge. I was sincere when I told you that. Still… I have failings.”

He looked around the table. He could only meet Vex’s eye for a moment.

“I’m afraid of Ripley, but I’m also angry with her. Sometimes, when I think of how she betrayed my family, I _seethe_ with rage.” And there was deep emotion in his voice. A glimpse through a very dark doorway. “If she comes after me, I _must_ have my gun on my person, and I _must_ kill her. I owe that to myself and to my past. When she is gone, I can let go of the ideas I once had, which I now know to be despicable and dangerous. But until then, I allow myself this one indulgence.”

“So you believe the weapons should never be used?” Keyleth asked. “Except by you. One time.”

“It is imperfect logic,” Percy confessed.

There was a weighty pause. Vex decided not to interrupt. She would let her crew have this moment. She could see Keyleth considering the situation with her usual measure of compassion. She hoped she would speak first. And sure enough…

“I’ve talked to you a lot about logic and morality and responsibility since you arrived,” Keyleth mused. “You already know that I try to lead with empathy. I would be a hypocrite if I couldn’t extend the same thing to you.”

The others, with the exception of Vax, were nodding.

“We all have things that haunt us, Percy,” Pike agreed. “If you need your weapon to feel safe, then keep it, for now at least. Maybe healing will come in another form. Maybe it won’t. You have time to work it out.”

“Yeah,” said Grog. “’Sides, making your own weapon seems badass.”

Percy chuckled, and Grog grinned, and the conversation quickly devolved into a long story about an old sword the warrior deckhand used to own. Over the table, Vax looked at Vex with meaning. His eyes said: _there is danger in this boy._

And, though Vex agreed, it didn’t worry her the same way it worried him.

…

Percy was entirely overwhelmed by Captain Vex’ahlia.

He had known she was impressive long before boarding the ship. He had known she was beautiful since the moment he met her. But he hadn’t anticipated how well he might get on with her. He hadn’t expected to find the kind of easy chemistry that caused his eyes to seek hers across the room to share a private smile, lost in a joke only the two of them could understand.

His heart caught in his chest every time she said his name. It pounded against his eardrums when she flirted. But he saw how easily she connected with everyone else on board. And he told himself it was just her way of being—so uniquely charming that people simply _loved_ her.

After just over six days on the ship, pushing against the wind, they reached the northern edge of Marquet. Below them, spread out like a painting, was the smooth coastline of the Bay of Gifts. The toss of white-capped waves against golden sand made Percy, for the first time in the entire journey, think he wouldn’t mind too much if they made ground.

But of course, there was a mission to complete.

He leaned on the railing with his notebook, trying to capture some element of the tiny paradise in sketch form, as best he could with only charcoal and lead.

Percy had finished most of his scientific observations now. He’d compared the workings of the _Cirrus Ursa_ with all his objective research on airships. He’d sorted out his understanding of its smaller size, and its automated functions, which allowed for such a tiny crew. He’d seen it chart its way through a few different changes in weather. And he felt pretty satisfied. He had a good basis for a concise publication that his professors might be interested in looking at.

And, as a result, his pages were growing increasingly cluttered with sketches and personal musings, while he relaxed into the other aspects of the journey.

He’d mentioned his progress to the crew over dinner the night before. He’d admitted knowing that the quest he signed up for was longer than he needed, and that he’d simply been captivated by the idea of finding adventure in the sky.

They’d all seemed to understand. He supposed it made sense, since they were chasing thrills themselves.

Not that anything particularly dangerous had happened on the mission thus far. They were only going to aid a drought-ridden part of Marquet, where an oasis had unexpectedly dried up, and the seasonal rains that followed a ridge of greenery through the desert had never come. On the surface, it sounded like a simple relief mission. But Vex had warned Percy it was something more…

There was something suspicious in the way the sustenance had been sapped from the region. Some larger force at play.

Anyway, while they went, they’d been collecting clouds.

They used a technique developed by Scanlan, Pike, and Keyleth. The kind of magic Percy had _never_ thought about before. The kind of thing that baffled him because it went so far beyond the realm of reality in which he liked to sequester himself. But it was quite a sight to see.

It always began with Keyleth. As the resident druid, she was monitoring the air currents and clouds that they passed. The moment they hit an area with a good concentration of moisture, she signalled her captain. Vex passed the instruction around the rest of the crew, getting everyone in place, and stilling the _Cirrus Ursa_ to a hover. With the help of Vax and Grog, she could maintain that position while the others worked their magic.

Then Keyleth stepped forward. With a deep inhale, she extended to her full, impressive height. A tall sapling in a flowing breeze. She spread her arms and called with every fragment of her power, and the wind began to rush a little faster, swirls painting themselves through the sky, while all the clouds drew in, as near and dense as possible.

And, with a puff of an exhale, she would stop—right before they turned themselves into rain and scattered, unattainable, into the sea below.

Next, it was Scanlan’s turn. On light feet, he would leap onto the railing of the ship, and hum a little tune, or sing some bawdy line that seemed designed to make the others laugh, before he leapt into the endless misty air.

When Percy first saw that, he lurched forward, expecting to see the bard plummet to his death below, or maybe pull off some trick and fly. But Scanlan hit the clouds, singing about a woman sitting on his face, her pussy wetter than the sky. And rather than sinking through, he _landed_ , as if on spongey, mossy ground. He shot Percy a grin.

From beneath his boots, light flashed, purple and crackling. It spread out from the place he stood, tangling through the clouds.

Then Scanlan bent and wrapped a fist into the substance at his feet. It should have been impossible to touch like that, Percy knew. Even without his scientific background, his upbringing in Whitestone had left him familiar with mist. He knew its cool kiss against his cheeks, melted to nothing by the warmth of human skin. But the clouds touched by arcana wrapped up as easily as ribbon.

Scanlan would wind them in a ball around his hand and toss them up to Keyleth, who would reel, and reel, and reel, until she held a tight two-fist-sized bundle, somehow absorbing a cloud larger than a standard carriage.

The two of them would work through the method until they had several spools of gathered cloud, and Pike told them it was enough. Then, no questions asked, Scanlan leapt back to the ship and shook free the vestiges of his magic.

The moment he had done so, he said, anyone stepping on the cloud would find it returned to its usual form. They would fall through to the ocean below.

And, last of all, it was Pike’s turn. The little cleric raised her hands and called on the powers of her goddess. She used some combination of water creation and redemptive restoration to ensure they hadn’t disrupted any natural water cycles. Her spells resulted in a stunning golden light gleaming through the space, rebounding in miniature rainbows from a thousand new water droplets, until fresh clouds began to billow out across the emptied sky.

After weeks of working through the process, the ship’s hold was heavy and cool with condensed cloud, and they were almost ready for the next phase of the mission. Knowing that Percy wasn’t busy, Vex called him to the helm along with Vax and Keyleth.

“We need to look at the maps again,” she explained. “We’ve only got five hours to Ank’Harel, and then another one to reach the region we’re aiming for. Vax?”

“Of course,” Vax said.

He’d been keeping the maps inside a long tube, slung with a strap across one shoulder, like a cartographer might wear. Now, at his captain’s request, he popped the lid. He slid out rolls of paper, entwined together, thumbing through to find the desired copy.

“Do you know Gilmore’s Glorious Goods?” Vex asked Percy.

“The shop in Emon?” he said. “I’ve passed it, but I haven’t been inside.”

“Well, its proprietor is a dear friend of ours. The glorious Gilmore himself.” Her smile was rueful. “He’s the one who requested we take on this mission, since his parents live in the drought region.”

Percy absorbed that. Imagined how the man must feel, to have his hometown at risk of dehydration.

“He must be so worried for his family.”

Vex’s mouth was set in a grim line.

“We all are,” she said.

At last, Vax found what he wanted. Two matching maps. One was clearly an official creation, with the swells of the desert and larger towns labelled. The second was hand-drawn, with far more detail added on, from the smallest villages to the little walking tracks formed by human passage. Vax spread them out.

“Gilmore sketched this before we left,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Here’s his old hometown.”

He indicated the point labelled _Shandal_ in a gorgeous, looping hand, and they began to explore their options.

Percy leaned over the map with the others. He listened to Keyleth’s clever observations about the lay of the land. He helped them work out which towns to start with, based on urgency and speed. He watched as they drew up a path.

“How have these places coped with the drought so far?” he asked, as they were wrapping up.

“Gilmore’s been teleporting back and forth,” Vax explained. “Bringing enough to sustain them until we arrive. And some people from the capital city have been going down. But those methods are limited. It’s hard to transport enough water for long distances.”

Percy nodded.

“Gilmore sounds like a good man.”

That earned him a bright smile from Vax, for the first time in days.

“He’s the best.”

And with that, they were finished. Vex told them to pack up and pass on word to the others. Vax tucked away the maps with gentle, reverent fingers before walking off with Keyleth. Percy waited until they were gone. He glanced at Vex.

“Does- does your brother have feelings for Gilmore?” he asked.

Vex’s eyes widened. She tried to smother a laugh.

“He does,” she admitted.

“And for Keyleth?” Percy asked, watching the pair as they reached Pike. 

He saw the way Vax flushed when Keyleth’s hand brushed his. Saw his gaze linger on her face, absorbing everything she said like it was precious and fleeting.

“Perhaps,” Vex said. “Almost certainly. He hasn’t said anything about it yet.”

Percy nodded solemnly.

“Looks like a matter of time,” he said. “I hope he doesn’t hurt her.”

Vex looked at him again. Her smile was soft, appreciating his concern.

“So do I. And I hope he doesn’t hurt Gilmore.”

“Yes, Gilmore sounds like he deserves far better than a broken heart.”

“He does,” Vex said. “I hope I can introduce you to him one day.”

“I hope so too.”

But even as he answered, Percy wondered what she meant. He wondered if Vex was also looking at the passing days, the mission nearing its end, and wishing he could stay.

“We still have several hours before we get anywhere,” Vex told him, breaking the pensive silence. “If you want to look at our cooling system in full effect, I’d head below now. Grog will show you.”

“Okay,” Percy said.

And he left.

…

Percy looked very comfortable, sleeves rolled back to the elbows, laid out on the upper deck. Noon had come and gone a few hours ago, and with a faint cloud cover, the heat was far more comfortable than searing. The kind of environment that might make someone take a nap, if not for the mission ahead, and the tension on the ship.

The only creature who seemed capable of sleep was Trinket. He was stretched out beside Percy, chest rising and falling, sunlight turning his fur to copper at the tips. 

Vex didn’t meant to stare. But how could she resist? Percy had his notebook spread before him, pencil skirting across the page. Before, she’d been sure he was writing notes, perhaps recording what Grog had shown him of the cooling system down below. But now, she thought he was drawing. From his vantage point, he would have a beautiful view—the curved shape of the _Cirrus Ursa,_ bow poking ahead, and the remarkable city of Ank’Harel spread across the port side.

Vex had just given up the helm. With nothing else to do, she wandered up the stairs to Percy.

He didn’t seem to notice her approach. He was absorbed in his artwork, and up there, the wind blew louder than it did below. Unseen, Vex got a good view of his page.

And she froze.

He was drawing her.

She recognised the slope of her own cheek and the curl of her eyelashes, backed by light, because those features belonged to her brother as well. But they were different here. Captured in all their subtleties. They were _hers._

The lines made by Percy’s pencil were pure artistry—not professional, nor perfect, but certainly practiced. They collected up detail and shape and light in broad strokes and scribbled black marks, overlapping on the white page. Even without colour, he managed something _special._ Vex saw the upper curve of her body, the shirt of the day unmistakable with its embroidered buttonholes. There was an outgoing line from the shoulder, an indication of her hand on the wheel, not yet filled in. A beautiful twist, re-traced several times over to accurately capture its width, for the brim of the hat on her head. A dark swathe for her hair, all braided and bound, down her back.

But it was her expression that caught her. That made her still.

He had put emotion in it, somehow. There was a weight of worry, twitched just so in a curving brow. There was a determined set to her lips, full and reverently rendered as they were. It was as though he’d read everything she was feeling, only moment before, when she was standing at that wheel. And she looked stunning.

Percy glanced up again. But his subject had moved. And he halted. He tensed.

He turned toward the place where she now stood, sheepish expression already springing across his features.

“Captain!” he said, voice higher than normal. “Hello!”

“Hello, darling. Lovely artwork,” she said.

“Oh.”

His eyes were so blue it was like they’d drunk the sky above. She was staring into his soul.

She’d always liked what she saw there—his poise and his manners, his attitude and his snark. She’d been endeared by the tender insecurity beneath the surface. By the self-deprecation in his humour. Even the defensiveness he carried. Over his past, over any mistakes he made.

He was so much like herself, in some ways, yet enchantingly different.

She wanted to lie down beside him, grab his collar in her fist, and pull him close. Better, she wanted to ask what _he_ wanted, and hear him lay it out exactly. She started thinking; they were beside the city now. If she made her feelings clear, and Percy didn’t reciprocate, or felt uncomfortable, they could make ground. He could leave _._

She kept thinking; oh, but I want him to stay.

“Captain!” Keyleth yelled, jerking her and Percy out of their impossible, unbreakable moment.

“Yes?”

“I know we’re an hour out from the edges of the drought region, but I think… I think there’s a storm in the west.”

“A storm?” Vex asked. “Over the desert?”

“I’ll know more when we’re closer but… something’s wrong.”

“Shit,” Vex said. “Show me.”

And she left Percy behind, launching over the railing to the lower decks, and sprinting to the bow of the ship, where the Daughter of the Tempest started pointing to the horizon, hands flying rapid with the speed of her explanation.

She could feel something gathered in the sky, just past the limit of what they could see. When they looked at the maps again, they saw that there was nothing in that direction. It wasn’t a common path for caravans. It wasn’t technically on their route down from Ank’Harel.

But with their druid so certain she could sense something, they were willing to change their path.

And, as they drew closer, the sight grew clearer. Until Vex gasped, realising what it was.

A manor house. A grand, sprawling splendour in the middle of the desert. Its red stone walls rose high, in peaks and towers and open arches through which the desert breeze could rustle. Around it, gathering in some strange, unnatural formation, was a carpet of green. Plants, lush and well-watered, and peppered with ponds and pools.

Above it… clouds. A thick gathering of clouds that defied nature as thoroughly as the verdure below. They were dense at the centre and lighter at the edges and pouring a stream of rain over the house. Exclusively over the house.

It was obnoxious. A display of wealth and privilege that screamed its remorseless pride for all to see.

“Well,” Vex said. “Now we know why the regular rains never flowed down south.”

“Now we know whose ass to kick,” Keyleth growled.

And, on cue, a loud, echoing gong began to ring out from the manor. They’d been spotted!

Black shapes rose, like flies from shit, and floated in the air a moment, as though taking stock of the strange sky ship approaching them. Then they began to dart forward. Vex counted, one, two, three large ones. Five small. And as they came, the clouds moved with them, billowing out behind, as though attached to the figures in flight.

Vex spun toward her crew and began to shout her orders, deciding on instinct how to best handle the situation.

They moved instantly. They all knew their roles.

“Percy?” Vex called. “You can go below. It’s safer—”

“I’ll stay!” Percy said. He tore open the buttons that concealed his weapon. “I’ll help!”

She looked at his slim frame, his glasses, his clothes and their fine edges and their polished buttons. She felt almost protective. But then she looked at the fire in his eyes. And she was glad that there was no time to agonise and argue. That she could only nod her head.

Their attackers were close enough to be seen now: three flying carpets of some sort, enchanted to move quick, carrying a few people each: five shapes who were not people at all, but immense birds, trained to hunt.

And they brought the storm with them.

When it hit the ship, she lurched, as though slammed by a great swell out at sea, listing to starboard before Pike caught the wheel, muscles taunt in her arms.

“Thanks Pike,” Vex said.

She bent to snatch her bow and arrows from their hiding place, and turned, still kneeling, to fire her first shot toward the enemy.

“Take some down for me,” Pike said.

“I will, darling.”

And Vex lost herself in battle.

She was drenched, already, by the rain pouring down, sluicing the deck with water. But she could feel her team moving in periphery, following roles, adjusting behaviour when she called out some new command.

Vax clambered into the rigging and parried off attacks, swinging from a rope looped at the bottom of his boot. His dagger was the first to hit home in one of the birds. His cry of glee, coupled with his strange, storm-tossed appearance, made him look almost mythic.

Keyleth was holding back the worst of the storm, snarling at the people on the carpets. Each one was piloted by a druid, who, between them, had drawn up the cloak of clouds.

“Who are you?” Keyleth yelled over the wind.

The druids didn’t reply.

“Hey, you!” Keyleth said. “I’m talking to you! Do you own that house?”

One guy laughed, throwing back his head. His carpet wobbled.

“We’re fucking _hires,_ sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

Keyleth’s eyes flared with fury. She slammed a grasping vine toward him, and yanked. He rocketed forward off his carpet, hit the side of the ship, and vanished from view. One of his companions desperately scrambled to save the rug from falling.

In the meantime, the other carpets had come much closer to the _Cirrus Ursa._ The extra people on each began to board the ship. But Grog, teeth bared, responded. He drew twin axes and leapt into their way, battering them back. Trinket came to fill any holes in his defence.

Scanlan shot lightning, taking advantage of the storm’s aesthetics, casting the scene in flashes of greyscale and vivid violet.

“Captain!” Vax yelled abruptly. “We need more people on the birds! They’re going for the sails!”

Vex looked up. She saw extended talons. Taught stretches of dark fabric, flicking violently in the gale.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

And someone slid up to her side. Without looking, she knew him. Sweep of white hair. Solid shoulders.

“I’m ranged,” Percy told her. “I’ll help.”

And he settled into formation. His remarkable weapon was a metallic flash at her side. Its fiery smell rose to greet the rain. Its harsh pops punctuated the air.

Vex’s hands kept moving in easy rhythm, arrows notched, and drawn, and let loose. She and Percy aimed together, striking different targets, and shifting, back-to-back, and side-by-side, each beat caught in the tempo of the storm.

And as birds fell, feathers streaming, the tide of the battle began to turn.

Then Vex heard the twang of a crossbow from one of the carpets. Without a thought, she spun. She swept Percy from its path, flush against her body, tilted back in her arms. The bolt clattered, useless, to the deck.

“Careful, darling,” she murmured, so that only he could catch the words over the wind. “Wouldn’t want your lovely coat ruined with a puncture wound.”

Percy took his breaths rapidly, adrenaline filling his veins.

And she gave herself a moment to take him all in. He had come alive in the fight. Every limb and muscle of his body was electric. His eyes were shining, his foggy reading glasses abandoned in the neckline of his shirt. His cheeks were flushed. He seemed as much a creature of the storm as the rest of them. Perhaps more so.

 _Percival de Rolo,_ she thought faintly, _Lord of the Sky._

Then she released him and took stock of the rest of her crew. Her brother swung through the rigging, dagger plunging neatly into the chest of the last living bird. The carpet without its druid had vanished entirely, leaving only two. On one of those, a fighter had drawn a crossbow. But Pike, from the helm, cast a spell toward him, and he fell back, losing his grip. Scanlan shot an insult at another. Grog slammed a swordsman so hard he flew backward.

And Vex could see the two remaining druids exchange a glance. Something wordless passed between them.

“Catch the carpets!” she commanded.

Keyleth flung out grasping vines from the side of the ship again, trapping a whole tangle of squirming limbs. Vex and Percy ran forward to help her pull it in, like fishermen at sea.

Vax, who was still crouched in the rigging, yelled something. It was utterly indecipherable on the wind. But in one neat, trusting movement, he sliced his ropes free, and plummeted directly onto the second carpet. Right as he landed, Grog lurched one leg over the railing of the ship, stretched out the full length of his massive body, and caught the falling first mate by the ankles.

“The fuck Vax?!” he yelled. “You crazy bastard!”

But Vax had two fistfuls of carpet. And as Grog hauled in the whole prize, their attackers staring at Vax in terror, he simply laughed.

“I knew you’d catch me,” he said.

They lined up all their enemies on deck. There were only five people left. Two druids, three others, blinking at them in bewilderment, tied up with all of Keyleth’s vines. The storm continued to rage around them.

Vex adjusted her wet captain’s coat, sighed deep, and began the interrogation.

Luckily, these were mercenaries with little loyalty to the people who hired them, and they were terrified after the deaths of their allies. They told her everything.

It turned out the manor house was owned by a local lord, who had wanted to raise the prices of water he was importing to the region. So, when he heard of Shandal’s oasis drying up, he seized the opportunity. Knowing his grand house was off the usual beaten path, he thought he was unlikely to be discovered if he stole the seasonal clouds and kept them to himself. He hired druids to pull all the weather in and fighters to defend him. He lent them his magic carpets so they could swoop down on anyone who appeared on the horizon.

By the end of the story, Vex was furious. Yet she kept it contained, buzzing beneath the surface.

“Right, well, you all sound like _lovely_ people,” she said. “But we don’t have time to deal with you. I need you to leave. Head north. Don’t return to your employer.”

The prisoners looked at each other. One of the druids leaned forward.

“We have a prize to collect,” she said. “He owes us for our service.”

“Your _service?_ ” Keyleth spat. “Your service forced hundreds of innocent people to go without water! Some have died of dehydration.”

Vex raised a hand to quiet the murmurs of her crew.

“You won’t have payment from this lord anyway,” she said. “We’re taking a report back to Ank’Harel when we finish providing relief. Once the authorities find out this was no freak weather pattern, your boss is doomed. You know how seriously they take the water laws around here.”

The druid wore a snarl across her lips.

“I’d like to take my chances.”

Vex sighed.

“Put it this way. Leave, and take one carpet as your prize. Or my brother will lend me his dagger, and I will _cut your throat_.”

So they went.

They piled onto a single carpet and flew away north, leaving all the clouds behind.

What followed was silence. Eerie and complete, but for the dull growling of the storm.

“How could you let them go?” Keyleth asked, voice quiet and angry.

Vex shot her a small, wan smile.

“We’ll track that carpet later,” she promised. “Handing out this water is far more urgent. Think you can carry all these clouds with us?”

Keyleth looked up.

“Yeah,” she said. “They’re too dense to stop them raining now, but if we drop them at the top of their usual path, I think the winds will start carrying them down.”

“Good. And then we hand out water.” Vex looked around her crew, all bedraggled and sodden from the rain. “It’ll still take an hour to get to where we need to go. We veered off course a little. So let’s take stock of the damages. Then we can swap out shifts to get cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay.”

They set out to do as they were told.

Vax and Scanlan climbed up to check the sails. Pike still had the helm, but Grog stayed with her, presenting his sliced forearm for healing. Keyleth went to untangle the last of her vines.

And Vex turned to Percy.

She could see everything in him, still. She could taste the blazing, dynamic spirit of a fighter. She could feel the sensation of their feet dancing together.

He was a mirror to her, she realised, but a balance as well. He was one half of a coin spun in the air, a perfect circle of gold, each side imprinted with something unique. A head. A tail. Two bodies as one. Two minds.

Perhaps, even, two hearts.

As the ship rose up at last, buoyed on by an envoy of storm clouds, she felt like she was taking a new breath. And she knew she couldn’t wait another moment for him.

…

Percy felt somehow heavy and alive all at once. He’d never been in a fight before. Not really. He’d certainly never expected to feel such a connection with Vex—the two of them spinning around each other like equalised mechanisms in a perfect, turning wheel.

She was looking at him. The rest of the crew had scattered, but those gorgeous, molten brown eyes were locked on his.

“Percy,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“I- I’m a little shaken,” he admitted. “But that was fun.”

“You should go warm up,” Vex said. “Oh, but you don’t have a bath in your rooms, do you? You’ve been borrowing Grog’s.”

Percy blinked.

“You’re right.”

“You can share mine this time, if you want. In the captain’s quarters.”

And perhaps Percy was still flush with the excitement of the fight, bolder and more uninhibited than ever, lungs full of the metallic tang of gunpowder and the crisp taste of mist. Because he had the guts to clarify.

“Sh-share?”

A smile curled her lips.

“Well, I did mean to say borrow, but I’ll put that offer on the table. If you want me to join you in the bath, you need only ask.”

Percy thought, for a moment, he must have been knocked in the head during the fight. Because _this could not be happening._

But he wasn’t fool enough to turn it away.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “I would ask. I would want you to- I- I’ll go and get in. You can come too. If that’s—”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll be there soon.”

And he stumbled away.

He somehow felt like an intruder, despite the very clear invitation, as he swung open the door to the captain’s quarters. The first room was Vex’s office, with its broad desk and high-backed chair, but off to the side another door lead to a bedroom, with a divider at one end, and a tub already waiting.

It was fairly small—brass and set solid to the floor, cast in silvery light by the storm clouds outside the window. He fumbled around and found at tap at one end, connected by pipes to the stove in the galley below, just as it had been in Grog’s bathroom. He considered how truly magnanimous Vex was, as a captain, to fit her entire crew with the same set-up as herself.

Percy turned on the tap. He watched the water fill the bath.

It was fairly cool in the room, especially with the sky so overcast outside. But he laid his glasses on a nearby table and then slipped off his wet coat, letting it fall to the ground. Following it with his shirt and pants, and finally, his undergarments.

Then he stood for a moment, the chill raising hairs on his skin, and tensing his nipples.

He trailed a hand into the bathwater. His mind suddenly conjured a fresh realisation: that this was the place where _Vex_ bathed. She had sat here, naked, many times before.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “What am I doing?”

The water level was high enough. He turned off the tap and stepped inside the tub.

The temperature was luxurious. It radiated through his entire body as he crouched down, submerging himself. He found his height a little encumbered by the depth of the tub, but after manoeuvring, hanging a leg over the edge, he could fit well enough.

He watched the steam dance overhead, listening to the singing storm.

“Hello, darling.”

Percy glanced back. Saw Vex leaning against the bedroom door. She had discarded her coat and hat already, and her white shirt clung to her body, showing the shape of her brassiere, the turn of her waist. She stalked toward him painfully slowly, eyes roving over his body. There was a thrill in that—her, still fully clothed, while he lay bare before her. He remained still, almost scared to move, as if it might he might shatter a spell.

With no where else to sit, Vex straddled the bathtub, leaning a hand on his exposed leg. Then she curled down, and kissed him, careful and tender and surprisingly hesitant. Vulnerable. When she pulled away, she left her face close, almost nose-to-nose with his. Without his reading glasses, Percy couldn’t see much more than a blur. But he could _feel_ her.

“Hello,” Vex whispered again.

“Hello,” Percy managed.

He pulled his leg back inside the bath, and pushed upward, now on his knees, for a better angle to kiss her. A little tremble went through his upper body, from the chill on his exposed torso. Or the excitement.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more intoxicating. Percy’s lips parted, welcoming her in. One of her hands came to tilt his chin up. His own fingers brushed uncertainly along her thighs, not quite sure where they could rest. Not quite sure if they were _allowed._

Vex broke away.

“Darling, you can touch me,” she said.

He laid his palms flat, gripped tight when her mouth returned to his. And they lost themselves in kissing—a soft bite at Percy’s lip, a firm confidence to the workings of Vex’s tongue.

As the minutes spun by, Percy felt himself grow braver. His hands roved upward, across those warm thighs, to Vex’s waist, tugging her closer, frustrated by the limitations of the bathtub, making her laugh into his mouth. Then he went to the buttons on her shirt. He tried to work the first one free, but _gods_ it was hard to focus with her lips locked on his own.

“Here, Percy, hold on,” she whispered.

And she sat back. He whined, mouth following hers like a magnet. But he quickly realised what she was doing.

She tore the buttons free—no hesitance, no hint of shyness. She simply made quick work of them and tossed the shirt aside. Her brassiere was simple and practical, as one would expect of a ship’s captain. She unhooked that as well. Removed it.

Percy let out a little moan. Disbelief and awe.

She graced him with a teasing smile, like this was another inside joke they shared. She gave a little shimmy, enough to make him chuckle, and pulled him in again. He was surprised by how _comfortable_ this was. Even while it was intense and overwhelming, it was familiar. It was natural. Like he’d been born to sit here, on his knees in front of her.

But he wanted _more_. He wanted to please her. He wanted to shower her in the attention she deserved.

“Can I—” he began.

His hands tugged at the waist of her pants, pleading in gesture as words failed him.

“Oh, darling, _yes,”_ Vex purred. “You can.”

Once again, she pulled them off herself, freeing shapely legs of wet, clingy fabric. She settled back on the bath. Percy didn’t hesitate. He pressed quick, hungry kisses up her thighs, which spread even further under his touch, and licked his way gently into the warmest part of her.

“ _Percival,_ ” she hummed.

Her hands tightened in his hair, fistfuls of silver. She rocked gently into his touch. His fingers drifted, curling inside her, while his tongue found a rhythm—a thing akin to the pulse at his own throat—to the magical sway of an airship in motion.

He could have passed endless hours there, though he knew their time was limited. He could have forgotten the rest of the world. Vex murmured enthralling words, completely unabashed. She tossed her head back, braid swinging in the air, moaning sweet sounds that echoed around the cabin. And her thighs began to tremble.

Percy moved closer. With the hand that wasn’t inside her, he tugged her in, hooking her leg across his shoulder, helping to hold her up.

“Fuck. Percy _. Right there,”_ she whispered. “ _Fuck.”_

And in a quiver of ecstasy, she came, her fingers digging into his scalp.

Percy teased her through the peak of it, elongating every sensation. Then he slowed moved out, kissing her thighs gently, devoutly. As though he could ever express the sheer, unmatchable bliss of hearing her call to him like that. Of knowing he brought her to that point.

Vex swung back off the bath. Her legs were still shaky, and she dropped to her knees beside the tub, crawling behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing a fierce kiss to the back of his neck, adding a graze of her teeth.

“Percy, let me take care of you,” she said.

He could only manage a faint whine in response. He was so hard it _ached._

Another kiss. A nibble at the base of his jaw. A faint nip at his earlobe.

“Oh, darling, you’re gorgeous. I could pour out praise on you forever.”

“ _Captain,_ ” he sighed.

The word seemed to ignite her. She slid her hands down his chest, skimming his nipples, running down to the surface of the water, making his skin burn and tingle and tremble with pleasure. Making shivers rise up at his core.

“Please,” he said. “Touch me.”

“You ask so nicely, Percy.”

“ _Please_ ,” he said again.

A trail of fingertips remained to tease one nipple, while her other hand circled lower. It went rib by rib, inch by inch over the taught, tightening muscles in his belly, below the water. It found the coarse hair trailing from his navel. Found the base of his cock.

And stilled.

“More?” she asked.

The tones of her voice rumbled through him. He thought they must ripple in the bathwater. Commanding the entire room. Breath-taking. Exhilarating.

“More,” he pleaded.

Her hand began to move, firm and tight against his cock. There were callouses on her fingers, from tying ropes, riding the wind. He arched his back into her touch, his head laid on her shoulder, steam rising off his skin.

When she turned her head toward him, he _felt_ her eyelashes on his neck. His whole world was a swirl of pure sensation, his thoughts caught up and cast aside in the heady experience of being worshipped by the enigmatic captain of the _Cirrus Ursa._ By Vex’ahlia. By Vex.

An unbearable _need_ called his hips to action, pressing up into her palm. Her other hand tangled in his hair again, keeping his head back, while she pressed a light kiss to his throat.

“Tell me when you’re close,” she said.

Percy’s hands were on the edges of the tub, gripping tight now, fingers white. He could taste her—salt and honey—on his tongue.

“I’m close,” he admitted, immediately. “I’m close, I’m close, I—”

“Would you like me to keep going?”

“Fuck, _yes,_ ” he pleaded. “Don’t stop.”

Fingers gripping his hair, the long column of his neck still on display. Breath tickling his sensitive skin. Hand sliding over his cock.

“Vex, don’t stop.”

Quick, volant movements below. Agonising care above, in the way she kissed him.

“Bold, my darling. Say my name again.”

Surrender reached Percy all at once. His every nerve ignited. The heat inside him burst into divine transcendence.

And he cried her name with faith he never knew he had.

Vex continued to work him through the bliss, a slow and gentle torture, prolonged to the very end. Percy felt himself melting into the water. His limbs turned liquid. His eyes fluttered closed. He let go of the bath, no longer needing it to ground him, and reached down to still her hand instead, twining her fingers with his own.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Captain.”

Her laughter echoed through his bones and struck the heart of him.

“Your politeness returns.”

“I’m sorry.”

He opened his eyes, turned to look at her. Her skin glistened in the steamy air. Her hair had started coming loose of its braid. She seemed incredibly pleased with herself.

“Don’t be. I liked it.”

He flushed. Looked down.

“I guess we have to go back on deck?”

“True.” She let slip a mournful sigh and leaned forward to catch his lips in the gentlest kiss. “I’ll have to draw ‘Vex’ out of you again some other time.”

…

They left the storm clouds hanging on the wind, to be swept down their usual paths, and went to deliver the water.

Vex loved that part. She loved the awe and excitement on watching faces when the _Cirrus Ursa_ landed. She loved meeting the people, and talking with them, and connecting to them on a simple, humble level. She loved being a part of wonderful memories.

Their arcane methods turned out even more effective than they’d hoped. They brought out spools of cloud from the hold, each one now far heavier than it had been at the beginning, after ruminating in renewing magic. They carried these to dry reserves. And, with a simple toss, the curls unfurled and exploded into their natural, watery state, filling spaces far bigger than even the original clouds had occupied.

It was a whirlwind of an evening, followed by a lingering, frigid desert night. They worked without sleep: landing, bestowing their gifts, taking off again, and finding the next settlement. They knew they’d be exhausted at the end, but it was worth it.

And in the midst of it all, Vex could barely keep her eyes off Percy. While they went about their tasks, she kept remembering his body, pale and unwound under her fingers. She kept remembering his voice, strangled with desire, speaking her name. She hoped, desperately, that they might do that again.

She hoped, even harder, that it could mean something.

…

They settled, at last, in Shandal. Gilmore’s parents had offered them a space to land the ship and promised a meal when they woke. The crew went to bed the moment they made ground. But Percy stayed up, wrapped in a heavy cloak to fend off the cold, looking heavenward.

The stars were all clarity and radiance here, speckled in their thousands. Dancing ancient, celestial dances. Like a Whitestone sky. He had missed seeing it while living in Emon, with all its light pollution, though he hadn’t realised at the time.

This trip had gifted him so many sights he never knew he needed.

Unasked, the image of Vex rose in his mind. Her warm, brown skin, dusted with small freckles, spread far apart like islands in an ocean. Her beguiling smile. Her breasts and her thick thighs and the soft, mesmerising turn of her waist. The curly hair between her legs. The velvet feel of her vulva. Her hands, strong and calloused, against his body.

It was impossible how perfect they’d looked together. Impossible and incomprehensible how she _fit_ with him. And him with her.

He could hardly breathe just thinking of it.

“Percy?”

Vex’s voice carried an uncertain note.

“Captain,” he said, spinning around to face her, too eager for his own good.

“I’m glad you’re still awake,” she said.

She came to rest on the railing as well, looking out over the village. The clouds, with all their rain, had reached Shandal in a straight line while the _Cirrus Ursa_ wound its meandering path. The ground was speckled with the remnants of the weather.

“I expect there’ll be a party tomorrow,” Percy said, for something to say.

“Yes,” Vex said. “I hope I’ll be celebrating too.”

It was strangely cryptic. She turned toward him.

“Darling, I know you like it on this ship. We all really like you too. Perhaps that’s obvious. I- I certainly showed you yesterday.”

Hearing her acknowledge it out loud made him shiver.

“So I wanted to ask,” she said. “I know you’re writing something about airships, and of course, I understand it will take a year or so, at your university. But I also wanted to offer, if you’re interested, a space on board the ship. For after it’s done.”

Percy’s mouth fell open.

“It’s an open invitation,” Vex continued hurriedly. “So, please, feel free to think about it for as long as you need. There’s a lot to consider. A lot at risk. Like I mentioned before this journey, we have enemies who seek to ruin the ship and the things it stands for. And we plan to keep taking on dangerous tasks. It’s not always easy.”

“I don’t mind that,” Percy said. “I- I’m amazed you’re asking _me._ ”

“Well, you fit in well with us,” Vex said. “And that’s quite a unique position to be in, honestly.”

She had been fidgeting while she spoke, hands turning together. Now she met his eye. Her gaze was touched with insecurity. As though she hadn’t just offered Percy’s biggest dream.

“I would love to,” he said.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“I- I know that sounds abrupt. If I were as sensible as I look, maybe I’d think about it more. But I really want to return to the airship. I can’t imagine leaving forever.”

Vex smiled. She tried to hold herself back.

“One more thing,” she said. “I hope you know… what’s between us… I don’t want it to complicate things. I like you, Percy. But I won’t put you in a position where you think you must reciprocate.”

“ _Vex’ahlia_ ,” he interrupted. “I like you too. Don’t be- how could I not?”

“So you want… this?”

She laid a hand on her chest, over her heart. His own was thudding hard against his ribs.

“I want to be with you,” he said. “In whatever way you’re prepared to be with me.”

“Why do you look scared?”

“I- there are things in my past that follow me,” he admitted. “Like Anna Ripley. And this gun at my hip. I supposed I feel I need to ask… are you sure you want me?”

“Of course,” she said firmly. “We both have history. We can carry it together.”

“I do want to get rid of the gun one day,” he said. “I hope you’re not looking for a fighter in your crew. I- I’d rather learn the ways of the ship. Make myself useful with my hands. I think I can do that.”

Vex took his hands in her own.

“Mm,” she said. “You _are_ good with your hands.”

Percy felt heat in his cheeks. Pooling in his belly.

“So it’s decided,” he said. “I’ll go back to Emon, finish my publication, and then join the crew.”

“It’s decided,” Vex echoed.

“And I hope I’ll see you in between. Whenever you visit the city.”

“Oh, darling, of course. I would love to see as much of you as possible.”

Percy laughed. He felt strangely bold now. For the first time in his life, he thought he could really, truly see a glimpse of healing on the horizon. A promise of better things. A sort of redemption in the sky.

Vex lifted his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

“A little. Maybe we should go to bed.”

“Would you like to share?”


End file.
